CNC/CBT
healing at the mercy of your body
Originally written for Gnome Zine issue #4
CW: allusions to [sexual] assault
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“No one will believe you” I wake upI am not in dangerI am distracted by Her. I spend the day with her, like before, I’m chiselling her into an effortless paragon But we have a mutual understanding, she’s fixed beyond me I don't want her We say our goodbyes together and waiting I flirt with her through the fence and I’m in, Danger, I am in danger, I am in danger I am in danger I’m a bullet ripping through my lymph nodes, rupturing my brain stem, exiting my frontal lobe: fight, flight, freeze, appease, on my knees, harder please? she’s gripping too hard to my wrists and ankles and waist and “No one will believe you” Reflex takes over instinct; I would like to take the largest syringe I could find, extract that from my nervous system into a clear vial, and place it neatly within my workspace. I would take its dimensions, identify the colour and viscosity, and test for its chemical compounds to the best of my ability. I would send it off to an experienced researcher who would tell me what I couldn't find out about it myself, and would use it in a study amongst others just like it for the good of the general public. The other option is to get on top of the men and watch them rupture, Demolishing chunks of my limbs in order To dull you So where was that syringe? My desk may be filled with compasses, calipers, needlepoints and hammers, but I am no longer a wrecking-ball therapist Because daily, I have measured I continue to address I know I can outwait your half-life